


Remind Me

by midfordtrails



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midfordtrails/pseuds/midfordtrails
Summary: "We've captured a boy our age," his minion said, "He claimed to know you, sir."Ouma Kokichi inspected the detective kneeling before his feet. "Ouma-kun, you know me." the boy pleaded, "We were participants in the fifty third Killing Game of Danganronpa."His ears pricked at the sound of the name. Danganronpa, was it? Familiar, yet so foreign. Like he'd heard of it before, long ago. Unrecognisable memories flashed in his mind, and a migraine raged behind his eyes.He heard his goons ask what's wrong, but he could only growl. Whatever this Danganronpa shit was, something in him didn't want to remember.





	1. 1

Ouma Kokichi had grown accustomed to the endless nightmares. Though admittedly, the first few months for him were hell.

The nights he found himself waking in cold sweat and sitting on drenched sheets, drool and tears on his face as his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He’d always tried to remain calm, tried to remind himself it was fake, that he was safe and away from whatever monstrosity that thrived in his dreams. But it was all a futile attempt. No night was he ever spared from those memories and they taunted him for being so weak. 

His minions had suggested countless of useless methods in removing his dreams, adopting a new sleeping pattern, yoga, keeping those aromatic oils in his room, but their words would just enter and exit from his ears. They wouldn’t understand. They’d never know what he’d been through. 

Because he didn’t know either. 

Ouma couldn’t recall a single memory. He saw them in his nightmares but forgot about them once he woke. There was nothing he could do about it but force himself to get over it, and it was to no one's surprise his frustration grew over time. Just five months ago, he knew something had happened. Something he'd think was... traumatic. He was fortunate for his subordinates when they found him in an alley, bruised and bleeding, wounds littering his skeletal body and he was half naked, wearing his typical white trousers, but he was in a different jacket. An overly large purple sized jacket that hadn’t belonged to him, and he’d noticed it had a distinctively familiar smell of _idiocy_. 

“We were searching for you for so long, perhaps for a few weeks,” his minion had stated, when Ouma asked during recovery, “We couldn’t find our leader for such a long time! It was then we found your body in the alleyway during the evening, and someone mentioned they spotted a blue haired girl with glasses dropping you off.” 

He thought he’d caught a flash of a memory of someone’s face, but it vanished from his mind instantly. 

“We never knew who that person was, but… some of us do speculate she hadn’t saved you. Maybe she’d tortured you, and tried to dump your body when she thought you’d died.” _Tortured_ and _dump_ seemed like such big words. 

But regardless of whatever happened to him, or whoever had captured him, Ouma Kokichi knew one thing, which was that his mind was too stubborn to recall any of the events during his time of absence in his organisation. He had no recollection of where he’d been or what he was even up to. 

“You really don’t remember anything, do you, sir?” 

Ouma had nodded dejectedly. “I’m sorry I can’t remember anything for now. We’ll do something about it later, but right now, I want to apologise for scaring you all like that. For being away for so long.” 

It was funny, he thought, the fact that he was away for such a long while, without a single clue where he’d been, and his minions somehow still found a way to keep themselves together. He owed them a sincere apology. 

They worried, told him not to apologise and that everything was fine. Typical of them. They knew he wasn't himself, being the apologetic one, but there was nothing he could do about that guilt that resided in his chest. It was there, and it's always been there since they found him dying in the alleyway.  

 

* * *

 

Ouma awoke today, and once again, the nightmares. Except this time he didn’t scream or shout or cry for help. He was perturbed, but he adjusted to his dark surroundings of his chamber. _I’m safe, I’m okay,_ he chanted to himself as he pressed his palms to his eyes, _I’m safe, I’m okay, there’s nothing to be afraid of._

“You seem very unwell, Ouma-kun.” a voice echoed, and Ouma peeked through his fingers. In the dark, emerged a petite girl, in her typical white uniform and checkered scarf, she had lime green pigtails, and her face was concealed with a clown mask. _Aiko_ , he thought, and Ouma felt a strange rush of humiliation, he was so familiar with her, too familiar with her especially. If there was anything he remembered, it was that they’d been too close during the days before he was captured. 

She approached his bed cautiously, reaching out a hand. “Are you okay? Do you need to check for a fever—”

“Stop.” 

Aiko paused, jerking back her hand. Ouma wouldn't be able to see her face under her mask but he knew she was hurt. The supreme leader silently scolded himself, aware he was being a prick right now. 

“Look,” he sighed, looking up, “I’m sorry. About everything right now.” He wasn't the type to act genuine, but he tried now. Ever since he returned home battered and broken, he hadn’t dared look into her face. He didn’t want to. He was their leader, their dictator, yet he wasn’t able to hold himself together in front of them. He was half conscious when they found him, _crying_ , they’d said, _you were_ _crying._ He needed the time to grow again and to get better. And he swore he was going to. 

“No, no. It’s fine, Ouma-kun.” 

“I said don’t call me that.” he snapped, closing his eyes. A familiar feeling of irritation flickered in him. “I’m your leader. You must respect that.” She nodded in reply, though hesitantly, and Ouma forced a weak smile. 

All his subordinates treated him with much loyalty. He knew that. And in return, he would protect and lead them. They'd been with him through his highest and lowest points in life, and he made sure to treat them all equally. Except, he remembered, with this one before him, Aiko, he'd used her for his own pleasures in bed. Not like she'd minded since he knew she'd enjoyed every moment together thoroughly, even whispered she loved him once during a sleepless night. Her words hadn't mattered to him at the time, sex was sex, he did it without any feelings in between their bodies. But... now it was a problem.  

Because ever since he returned home... he's changed. He no longer felt like he enjoyed sex as much. 

He felt like he was cheating... betraying his feelings for somebody. And the feeling in his chest made him feel nauseous whenever he thought about it. There was a face in his mind, someone with long, feminine eyelashes, navy blue hair akin to black, smiling back at him with pity.  _"Which lie are you talking about, Saihara-chan? I lie a lot, so you'll need to jog my memory."_

The supreme leader clutched his head, wincing. He heard a voice, his own for sure, but he didn't remember saying it. Who was this _Saihara-chan_  person, anyway? 

"Hey, go get me a drink." He said with a swallow, just as Aiko nodded, and quickly exited the room, gently closing the door shut. 

He was alone now. He waited on his bed, wallowed in his own worries and anxieties. It was only morning, but he felt like he'd gone through a long day. He was far from pleased when Aiko barged back into the dimly lit room, her hands empty of a glass of water as he'd expected. "O-, I mean, sir, we have an alarming situation to inform you of." 

He sighed, leaning back into his soft, warm pillow. "Ugh, what is it?" 

"Looks like someone attempted to sneak into our secret base." 

Sneak into their base? 

"What? Do you have that person captured?"

"Yes. He's in our hands right now. They caught him just half an hour ago. They wanted to tell you." _But they didn't because they didn't want to hurt your mental state._

"Then...  just get rid of him for me. Knock him out but don't kill him. I'm not in the mood to handle these people today." 

Aiko shook her head, lowering her face. "We shouldn't. It's not a good idea."

"What? Why the hell not?" 

"He says he's a detective, sir, and that he knows you. He was quite adamant about it." 

 

* * *

 

 

The throne room was a place Ouma had been eager to return to. His base of power. 

It was a typical room, with polished marble white floors and the high windows, tapestries hanging from the walls as fire crackled in the corner to warm them on those dismal winter nights. And of course, his silver throne, situated at the centre of the room, and a few levels above ground. It was where he sat often. It made him feel powerful.

And now, kneeling before him in cuffs and chains was a young boy, staring up at him with an expression the supreme leader couldn't recognise. Surprise? Shock? Something else? The boy was in a black double-breasted and pinstriped uniform, and the look of it made the supreme leader frown. He knew he'd seen that sort of clothing before, somewhere. 

"We've captured a boy our age," his subordinate said through her mask, as the other two of his minions watched from the side, "He claims to know you, sir." 

Ouma leaned forward on his throne, inspecting the detective kneeling before his feet. It was strange he didn't even bother to struggle in his chains, like he had no intention of escaping. "Ouma-kun, you know me." he said, his gaze piercing into the supreme leader’s so intensely, and he dared use his name so casually. But the real question was, _why_  did he? What was he to him? "We were... participants in the fifty third Killing Game of _Danganronpa_." 

His ears pricked at the sound of the name. _Danganronpa_ , was it? It was familiar, yet so foreign. Like he'd heard of it before, long ago. His mind was suddenly flooded with flashes of unrecognisable memories, and a migraine raged behind his eyes. There was an echo of his own voice. 

 _"You guys talk about cooperation and teamwork, but you're all afraid. You're too scared to point your fingers at others, so you hide behind the word_ trust _."_

_"Personally, I don't think lies are exactly a bad thing... Let's face it, you wouldn't have any free will if the world was comprised with just the truth. But even then...I don't think it's good to lie to yourself, y'know?"_

_"The bastards who created this game to toy with our lives...and the shits enjoying it... They all...piss me off! Th-That's why...I'm willing to do whatever it takes...to end this game!"_

He heard he sound of his subordinates asking what's wrong, but he could only growl. Whatever this Danganronpa shit was, he didn't want to remember. His mind refused to. He waved them away. 

"Get him to my chambers. I'll talk to him later." 

"But-!" Aiko protested and Ouma clenched his fists.

“He could be dangerous alone with you, he might be a spy or even a kamikaze!” 

“He doesn't look like a threat.“

“Still sir, it’s risky to be alone—“

"I’m not a spy, or a _kamikaze_." the boy said, annoyance tinting his voice as the other two subordinates began pushing him up to his feet. "Ouma-kun, _you know who I am_." 

"What?" Ouma said, narrowing his gaze. The detective boy looked familiar. Too familiar like, he's seen him before. A warm feeling erupted from his chest, one he couldn't recognise. His heart was beating too fast. But then-

"What happened to you, Ouma-kun?" The boy shook his head, "You know us. You know _me_." He had these nice amber eyes, and such a gentle voice. But it was a shame. 

He had to be wrong. He didn't know him at all. 

Ouma let his subordinates drag the stranger away.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Untouched by the living, a monument was built for the twelve victims of the fifty-third Killing Game of Danganronpa. A small mound buried in the soil, the pictures and names of the students were engraved onto the stone. 

No corpses for burial. Just stone. 

“You've been sitting here for a while.” A man commented, standing beside the kneeling detective. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find their bodies by the way. They must’ve been really destroyed during the obliteration of the Academy.” 

Saihara could only stare at the pianist’s grainy picture, lined along with the other photos of his classmates. Her smiling face, it brought back flashes of memories. Her body hanging from the noose, her blood splattered over the marble grounds. He felt the bile rising to his throat. 

“It’s okay,” he said instead, swallowing. “Thank you for taking us here, Naegi-san. You’ve really been very helpful the past few months.”

Naegi Makoto, the new Headmaster of Hope’s Peak Academy, smiled. He was a kind and caring man in his early twenties, and he'd saved them after the Killing Game. Technically, the _Future Foundation_ had saved them the day they escaped the destroyed Academy, but Naegi Makoto was the one who was patient with them, who taught them how to recover during the months after the Killing Game. It was always noted by the young detective the Ultimate Hope shared a similar optimism as Akamatsu-san.

It was too good to be true, sometimes Saihara feared he was just a cosplay. 

“Saihara-kun, I can see your friends are over there.” Naegi pointed to the far end of the field. The yard was devoid of any life, the red sky cast a shadow on the grey headstones that littered the landscape, on every depth of the field. After five months put under supervision due to their mental states, the Ultimate Hope had decided the three were stable enough to finally visit the monument built for their friends. In the distance, Saihara spotted the silhouettes of the lean and petite figures of Harukawa Maki and Yumeno Himiko. They were both by the gateway, the entrance of the graveyard, waiting for him.

“They want me to go now.” Saihara said, standing. 

“You can stay for a few more minutes if you want,” Naegi said, shoving his hands down the pockets of his suit. “Always give yourself time to mourn. It’s… hard losing your closest friends.” 

Saihara shifted uncomfortably. He’d forgotten for a moment that Naegi himself had been in a Killing Game too. 

“And… about Shirogane Tsumugi..." the nausea returned upon hearing the mastermind's name. "We didn’t know whether we should include her in the monument too. Considering how things came to be.” The detective shook his head frantically. 

“It’s fine. She was the mastermind behind the fifty third Killing Game, and the ones before it. She was the one who created this whole Danganronpa.” _She killed my friends,_ he meant to say. _She should be left in the past, forgotten._

Naegi nodded. He’d explain to them of Shirogane’s misbehaving and being the Future Foundation’s most wanted women. A super-fan obsessed with Enoshima Junko, and she knew nothing brought more despair than seasonal Killing Games with innocent, talented teenagers. The late K1-B0 had done them good when he'd destroyed the Academy, Shirogane along with it. “That’s understandable… but for a while she was your friend. You must feel a little sad right?” 

The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. Friend, she’d pretended to be for a while. But then she was just a liar. “We just don’t know what she did with their bodies in the first place. Where she stored them, I mean.” 

“It is strange, I know,” Naegi said, staring fixedly at the pictures of the twelve students. “As I said, we searched the ruins, but we found nothing. Togami-kun thinks their corpses could’ve been cremated early on, but… Kirigiri-san…” 

“What did she say?” Saihara urged. “What did she think?” 

“Perhaps… there were never any corpses to begin with.” 

Before the detective could ask what he meant, he felt a tug on his arm. 

“Ah, Yumeno-san.” The Ultimate Magician gazed up at him under her oversized hat, pouting. 

“You’re taking so long Shuichi!” She whined, shaking his arm violently. “Come on, we can visit Tenko and the others next time… but right now Maki’s been nagging at us to go home!” 

The detective sighed, looking up at the stoic assassin standing by the gateway, even from afar, her eyes flashed a murderous red that screamed at him to hurry. But Naegi only laughed. “Don’t worry, Saihara-kun won’t take long. Why don’t we give him a few minutes, and I take you guys into the car first? Just to cool off a bit.” 

“Nyehh… okay. But tell Shuichi not to take too long!” 

The Ultimate Hope winked at him before taking the magician by the hand and leading her back to the entrance gate. Once again, Naegi Makoto had saved him, leaving him alone in silence and with his miseries. 

He wouldn’t try to deny it, he was resentful of everything. Even after months, Momota, Akamatsu, they were the reason why he was able to come this far. They deserved to have their own graves, proper ones, not just having their pictures stuck on a piece of rubble. 

But the question that both Harukawa and Yumeno, even Naegi refused to ask, still hung in the air like an unspoken accusation. Shirogane had lied so much about everything and their false memories, there was just the possibility, and a sad smile tugged on his lips. 

Were they really dead to begin with? 

But it faded when he noticed the picture in the corner of the monument. Lilac eyes, a knowing smirk. 

None other than Ouma Kokichi. 

He still recalled much about the supreme leader, the one who sang lies day and night, he'd always been so cryptic with his actions, but he knew the supreme leader wanted to live so bad. More than anyone else. 

_"Now would I really give into death so easily, my beloved Saihara-chan?”_

_We saw all of you killed, executed. You were the one under the press machine._

Hesitantly, he turned to leave, not wanting to see the pictures of his friends again. But even as he left the monument, he felt like the eyes of the supreme leader were following him to the gate.

 

* * *

 

It was after the end of the fifth trial.

The remaining students had scattered throughout the school collecting evidence for their final case. Saihara and Harukawa had investigated the supreme leader's room. They were greeted with ideas and theories glued to every inch of the wall, boxes and maps thrown to the floors, photos torn and crossed and stuffed under the bed. While the assassin was repulsed even stepping into his room, Saihara only felt a tug of pity. 

This pity flared in his chest when he reached Ouma Kokichi's whiteboard, and he'd found photos of all of them. A photo of the detective himself, and an arrow pointing at him with the word _trustworthy?_ It was then he knew, his entire life in the Killing Game up to his death, the supreme leader had no one to trust, no one to rely on. It reminded the detective of when he first joined the Killing Game. Perhaps if the supreme leader was given a chance to live, he would've changed too. 

"I found something," Harukawa said, kneeling before a bottom drawer beside Ouma's messy bed. "It's... a flower." 

The assassin spun and held the flower for the detective to see. It wasn't just any flower, Saihara narrowed his eyes, recognising the navy blue petals. 

"What is it?" Harukawa asked, worry creasing her brows. 

"Forget Me Not." 

"What?" 

The detective pointed to the flower in the assassin's palm. "It's called a Forget Me Not. Did you find anything else in his drawer?" 

The assassin snarled, crunching the blue flower in her fist and letting it fall to the ground. "Found nothing else but that. I don't know what was wrong with that bastard, but he kept this entire drawer full of these flowers." The detective furrowed his brows, moving himself beside the assassin. And she was right, the open drawer was filled to the brim with Forget Me Nots, and Saihara swallowed down his grief. "He probably did this to mess with us." 

Saihara shook his head. "Harukawa-san, knowing him, I doubt he'd do something like that."  

"There are some other things he's kept in his bed," Harukawa stood away from the drawer of flowers, approaching Ouma's bed and peeling the blanket from the mattress. "Look, a lot of weird things." 

Saihara took a look, and his eyes widened.

On the surface of the bed, was a small mountain of gifts. _The Book of the Blackened, the Monkey's Paw, Tattered Music Score_ , the gifts Saihara himself had bought for him from the School Store and had gifted to him days ago. He'd always wondered what the supreme leader did with his gifts to him, he'd always assumed he'd faked his appreciation for them, and trashed them the next hour, but to his surprise, they were all accumulated together in a large pile on his bed. 

The assassin recognised the detective's reaction, and scowled. "I feel like you know more than you should." 

He glanced at her sideways. "I do. I got him these gifts." 

"You did? I thought you said you didn't know him well." 

"I didn't," he said instead, picking up a random gift and rolling it in his hands. He remembered it was the last gift he'd given him before his death. Ouma had even stabbed himself and he recalled the ruby blood oozing from his fingers. _"_ _I stole your heart, so now I'm satisfied! I don't need to steal your life anymore!" "_ Even now I really don't know him." 

In a way, it made the detective worry Ouma had placed some of his belongings in certain areas of his room intentionally.

_What are you trying to say, Ouma-kun?_

"Harukawa-san, I think we're going to investigate a little longer here." Saihara conceded. The assassin opened her mouth to argue, but he interrupted her. "You know what Ouma-kun's like. He planned stages of his death, and the events that would take place after his murder. So you'd expect him to give us some hints on the Killing Game somewhere in his room, don't you think?" 

"But this room is a pig's mess. We're not going to find anything." 

"We will if we keep looking. We don't have much time left." He was grateful when Harukawa didn't try to argue back with him, but only continued to scavenge the supreme leader's room. She did ignore him at times but at least she was willing to work with him, they searched for any signs of clues, of secret messages in silence, and as time passed quickly. 

"Look at this, I found _another_ one of these flowers." 

Saihara turned to look. It was another Forget Me Not in her hand. Why were there so many around his room? Shuichi didn't even know they had any of those flowers around the Academy. He stared at the blue flower in thought, wondering what it could possibly mean. Was Ouma really just messing with them? Or was he trying to leave some kind of clue? In some places, Forget Me Nots were used to symbolise true love. Or maybe...

But it was so blue, so brightly blue, it shared such a similar resemblance to a certain survivor of the Killing Game. _"Nishishi... I am the Ultimate Supreme Leader. There are no depths I won't sink to. ...Even if I have to sacrifice myself."_

"Harukawa-san," Saihara licked his lips, beginning to feel the triumph tingling on his skin. All this time, he _has_  been trying to tell them something in his room. "I think Ouma-kun's figured out the Mastermind of this Academy." 

The assassin's eyes hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. "What do you mean?" 

"It's the first clue from him, so we're adding these flowers to our evidence. You'll see later." She didn't like being kept in the dark, Saihara knew. 

The assassin crumpled the flower in her hand once again, moving away and cruising out of the door. Shuichi knew this was the last time they were returning to Ouma's room, so he took a handful of Forget Me Nots from his drawer, shoving it into his pant pockets. He knew that it was almost time before they were going to partake in another trial, and he was certain it will be the final one. 

He could almost hear the wind whisper into his ears, _you'll never forget me Saihara-chan._

  

 

The five of the remaining students were going to be executed. Seasonal Killing Games were finally going to end. 

Three things appeared in Saihara's mind before he died. The pianist's warm smile, the astronaut's bloody corpse, and the supreme leader last words to him.It was Akamatsu and Momota who taught him how to survive, they were the ones who encouraged him to pick himself back up at his lowest point. But he'd didn't understand why it was that Ouma Kokichi stayed on his mind for so long.

Even after the supreme leader’s death, the detective imagined him sniggering behind. _"This is really it, huh? How boring."_

It wasn't only the flowers that helped Saihara with the sixth case. Ouma's horse a, twins b clue had given him the key to Amami Rantaro's secrets. If it weren't for Amami's true talent reveal they would've still been living in Tsumugi Shirogane's web of lies. They hadn't played a Killing Game, they'd been in the cosplayer's game all along. A giggle had bubbled from Shirogane's lips as she was hugging herself, her loss had comforted her. “Ah, what a sweet, tragic end to this Killing Game… and to know I’ve kept it up for so long. What despair!” 

“You’re sick,” Harukawa growled, as tears began to leak from Yumeno's eyes. Saihara lowered his gaze, clenching his fists. He wasn’t able to keep Akamatsu-san's promise of escaping the Killing Game, everything was a lie. 

Why anyone ever want to participate in a Killing Game was beyond him. Saihara didn't know who he was before he joined, his friends and his memories and his feelings, they were all fake. But he reminded himself, even if this is was all fiction, even if they were all fictional... the pain in his heart was real. The sadness he felt losing the people he loved and cared for were real. 

 _Danganronpa_ had to end.  

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re all going to be executed at long last! There won’t be a victor in this Killing Game.” The cosplayer smiled, her spectacles gleaming under the moonlight. “I mean, emerging as the only survivor, but he’s no victor after all.” Saihara was convinced Shirogane was taunting him, and he had tried to ignore her at the time, not knowing what truth was seeped between her words. 

"Kiibo, would you mind doing us the honour of executing us all?" 

K1-B0 nodded mechanically, his eyes glazed a neon blue before he set off into the sky. Saihara looked away as Harukawa and Yumeno huddled together. The Academy grounds suddenly rumbled beneath their feet, and the buildings around them began to shake violently. Above them, the purple sky was fading was fading into an innocent white. 

Purple was the colour of vitality, they said. It is a blend of the tranquil blue and the powerful red, it was the colour in between. Saihara liked that colour. It reminded him of Akamatsu's eyes, Momota's jacket, and Ouma's hair. He felt like they were always there with him. 

_Goodbye Danganronpa._

 

 

_Saihara remembered the last things Ouma had said to him before meeting his fate under the press machine._

_“Because, I’d never wanted your whole life to begin with. Didn’t I say I was a liar?”_

_“So all this time, you just wanted to play these games with me?” He didn’t know whether he trust Ouma but he hadn't done anything to him beyond these little games. The detective searched his wolfish grin for any signs of pain or hurt, but there were none. It’s like he never stabbed himself just a few minutes ago from the knife game he introduced. “Is your hand okay?”_

_The supreme leader had clutched onto his bandaged fingers. Saihara wasn’t an Ultimate at first aid, it had taken him a while to clean the blood but he’d wrapped his pale hand with the utmost care, not wanting to give too much pressure to his cut. He had him sit on the stair case as the detective knelt to fix his injury, and it was the first time he’d ever touched his skin, which was cold._

_“Not bad. See, what did I say?” Ouma said, child-like amusement in his voice, “The damage’s been done. I’m officially on your mind forever.”_

_Saihara shrugged. He didn’t think he’d ever come to understand the supreme leader, but after everything they’d played he was willing to try. “You want to go back?”_

_Saihara held out a welcoming hand, but the supreme leader didn’t take it. “Ouma-kun, you said I win by default, right?”_

_“Sure, sure. If you’re that eager!”_

_Though tired, Saihara smiled. “Then I’m glad.”_

_Ouma had given him a look, his malicious violet eyes almost sparked a bit of warmth for a change. And he was right, perhaps the Ultimate Supreme Leader would stay on his mind forever._

 

* * *

 

In the present, after visiting their friends' graves, they returned to Hope's Peak Academy. 

Naegi Makoto was frequently accompanied by the pink haired detective, Kirigiri Kyoko. Shuichi had always noticed, the closeness of their relationship suggested they were already a married couple, or at least engaged. 

"It's been a while since we checked up on you guys, what have you been up to?" Naegi asked, grinning with Kirigiri silently standing by the doorway, watching as always. She rarely spoke, but even then her presence gave them a sense of safety, comfort. Harukawa put down her blades on the sofa, moving before Saihara. 

Ever since Naegi had found the three of them near the ruins of the Academy, he's brought them to Hope's Peak Academy. There wasn't any place for them to stay, judging as how the majority of humanity was destroyed, so they'd used one of the spare rooms of the Academy as their own shared personal space. It was similar to a library, shelves of books stacked alongside the walls, velvety red couches in the centre of the carpeted floors. It was already a luxury compared to where they stayed in the Academy. 

"We're doing fine," the assassin stated, "Do you have more food?" 

"Do you mean snacks or meals?" Kirigiri asked, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

"Like some snacks. Some... Oolong tea?"

 "Of course we do." Naegi's smile had widened, perhaps happy that the aloof assassin had finally learned to speak up after a momentary period of silence after the escaped the Killing Game. "Ah, Yumeno-san, do you need anything too?" 

Yumeno had seated herself at the very top of a bookcase, kicking her feet slightly and humming a soft tune.  "Nyeehh... I'm all good but... maybe I'd like to have some ginger tea, please!" 

Naegi laughed, a genuine laughter of joy. "And Saihara-kun? Do... do you need anything today?" 

Right when Saihara wanted to reply, he stared into his face, zooming in. He’d talked to him a thousand times, but he’d never taken a long look at his face. He knew the Headmaster had those famous washed-out hazel eyes, but he still feared if he looked too deeply into them, the characters V3 would appear in his pupils. The detective trembled uncharacteristically, taking a breath. 

"Saihara-kun? You okay?" He asked, concerned, "You relapsing there?" 

“It's okay,” Harukawa sighed, leaning in to pat his shoulder and facing Naegi. “He's just tired. Just get him some warm water.”

Saihara took a deep breath. _Don't worry, nobody is a cosplay. He's definitely not a cosplay._

"It's okay, give him some time," he said, "When _we_ got out of the Killing Game, it took us a while to get used to normal life again." 

Kirigiri nodded. "Being patient to those suffering from psychological trauma is important. You needn't worry, he'll be fine."

The assassin grunted in understanding, squeezing his arm. Saihara exhaled deeply, _no more deaths, no more trials._

"Ah well, we're going to have to take off, Togami-kun needs us for something urgent," the Headmaster beamed. "We're going to send someone up fo your drinks. If you guys are ever in trouble, or need help with anything, just tell us!" 

"Take care," Kirigiri added, as she left the doorway, Naegi lingered by the entrance for a few seconds, before following suit and gently clicking the door closed, leaving them in absolute silence. 

It was awkward. 

Then, Harukawa whipped around to face the detective, her red eyes aflame. "Stop doing this to yourself." 

He didn't need to ask. He knew exactly what she was referring to. "I'm sorry." 

Harukawa glowered at him, before her face softened. "It's been half a year, you haven't been yourself. You're starting to worry me." _What is myself? I'm back to me, the insecure, weak detective I started off as in the Game._

"Maki's right... you're our friend, and sometimes, seeing you like this really hurts." Yumeno frowned. "You know what Tenko said to me once? Expressing your feelings is perfectly natural. You shouldn't be ashamed of it! So cry if you have to, laugh or punch something, just let it all out... and you'll feel better." 

Saihara blinked slowly. Yumeno was right. He'd been bottling up his emotions for so long, hiding how he felt from the others and telling them he was fine. It was obvious from they way he acted around Makoto Naegi and Kyoko Kirigiri that he wasn't fine. The memory of the Killing Game still stayed on his mind. His friends and their deaths stayed on his mind. 

“Do you think it’s possible than one of them is still alive?” Shirogane's words, everything being fake, the fact they hadn't found they bodies, even Naegi had said Kirigiri believed there could be a possibility. He still thought about it.  

It was a stupid question, and he knew even they thought it was a stupid question when they gave each other a weird look before turning back to Saihara. “You know that’s not possible.” Harukawa said, her voice a little lighter than usual. "We saw them die each in turn. _You_ saw them die in turn." 

"Nyeehh... are you okay, Shuichi?" 

"We didn't for... we didn't really. I mean, things might not have turned out the way we expected like with Akamatsu-san." They never knew what Monokuma did with those bodies. Where he stored them, where he hid them away.  "It just doesn't make sense, does it? Where did Monokuma-"

"Stop it." 

Saihara looked up into the assassin's eyes. They were narrowed in warning, and he could imagine his death by the look on her face. 

"Out of fifty Killing Games that sick cosplayer had created, we're the first to survive it. The first to really win the Game." she said, clenching her fists. "You heard what Naegi told us, around eight hundred lives have been captured and forced into killing because of Shirogane Tsumugi. This is how you react?" Saihara flinched. 

"I think you're being a big bully right now." Yumeno grimaced, taking her hat off. "Didn't Kirigiri-san say we're supposed to be patient with him?" 

"My patience is running thin. It's been half a year, all we're doing is watching him destroy himself." she turned, glaring at the magician who hugged herself on the bookshelf. "Our friends are dead. They're not coming back."  

There were times the detective had taken a look at the assassin, her face was too chalky, and there was an dead hollowness in her crimson eyes he hadn't seen since he first met her before Amami's death, it was like she was constantly frightened. He knew the Killing Game had taken a toll on all three of them. Even Yumeno was far from fine, he could hear Magicain's sobs late at night, her calls for Chabashira and Yonaga and her curses towards Shinguji. 

He was wrong when he said they'd recovered. They haven't. It was only a mask they were wearing to conceal their pains. 

"Just... stop thinking about things you know aren't true." Harukawa turned back to him, her face full of sadness. "It's making us depressed. You were the one who wanted to live so desperately, right?" 

They all wanted to live so desperately. 

 

* * *

  

Saihara had spotted a clown that day. 

It might've been a dream, or he was too tired to function right, but it was someone he knew he'd seen. Not in person, but on screen. 

That day, it was a torrid afternoon. The three had decided to get some fresh air outside of the Academy, since they hadn't been able to so for a while, and Naegi had suggested it was a good idea to take their minds off the Killing Game and the Cosplayer. The glossy lawns glittered with droplets of water after the rain from yesterday, and they shone under the blaze of the sun in the azure sky. There was a a nice breeze that kissed their skin on the fields, but Saihara felt too hot to appreciate the scenery's beauty. "Did you bring any cold water?"   
  
"No... do you mind warm water?" Yumeno was the one who organised their basket of food the night before, and she'd carried the basket the entire tread through the meadow. "We can use my magic to cool you down if you want!" 

 "Um, no thanks."

"Why don't we sit here and take a break?" The assassin suggested, slumping to the grass. "Food is good for the body." 

They sat there, under the heat of the sun. Naegi had said they'd never truly forget about what happened to them, but they'd learn to heal, and once they did they could work with them in the Future Foundation. "We have all this time to ourselves." Saihara uttered, stating something for the first time in a long time. "The world is really moving towards a better direction. I thought after Kiibo destroyed the Academy humanity no longer had anything good in store." 

Harukawa glanced at him in surprise, taking a slice of bread into her mouth. "Everything's building itself back. Our enemies are gone."

 _Not yet, not completely,_ he'd wanted to say, _my enemy isn't gone because he's living inside of me_. 

He'd rummaged through the basket for something to drink. Hot, warm water, he didn't mind. He was thirsty. 

But there were none. 

"Yumeno-san," he called, worried, "Didn't you say you brought the bottles of water just now?" 

"I did!" 

Shuichi gestured to the open basket, containing food wrapped in plastic but nothing to drink. Yumeno moved to the basket, taking a peek. "Nyeehh... my bad! I guess I might've forgotten." As Harukawa rolled her eyes, munching on the bread as the detective stood abruptly. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'll get us something to drink." 

"But that's we've been walking for a kilometre, you sure about that?" 

Saihara nodded. "It's not like I'm going to get lost. The field surrounding this Academy is protected, I think they mentioned before." 

"If you can get those Candy Cigarettes!" Yumeno yelled after he walked a few meters away. He'd needed some time to work his muscles after sitting in his room for so long, sharing a room close to Maki's and Himiko's, he never liked being alone now, unlike how he used to enjoy time to himself back in the Academy. Because whenever it was just him, it wasn't really just him. 

He felt like the supreme leader was living inside his head. 

 _"Oh? Going to get something to drink?"_ he heard the childish voice, the one that had been following him every night. _"I recommend sake, shochu, whisky, you know, drinks to drown out your misery! Nishishi!"_

"Shut up." he said, walking faster. "Just shut up." 

_"Why? You just don't want me to remind you of the Killing Game, do you? Man! Now isn't that selfish of you. You're tryna forget about us even though we sacrificed everything for you!"_

"No, just shut up." 

Ouma Kokichi has been living inside his head since he escaped the Academy. Except, he wasn't Ouma Kokichi. He was just a shadow of the supreme leader, the one born to mock him. _"I know you miss me, I know you still think about me day and night. You just can't stop thinking about me."_

He ignored the voice, but he continued his verbal assault. _"You think I'm alive, don't you? So why aren't you looking for me?"_

"That's because Harukawa-san's right." He paused in his tracks, stopping near a metal fence that separated the school borders with the rest of the world. He was being ridiculous, arguing with himself, but like attending a trial all over again, he needed to prove his point. "We saw your crushed body and you're dead."

_"Aw, now do you really think that, my beloved Saihara-chan?"_

He breathed deeply, "Yes." 

_"Then who's that over there?"_

Saihara turned, and on the other side, behind the fence he found a giant figure with a red afro, wearing a clown mask, staring back at him.

He recoiled, the mask looked so disturbing and one that belonged in a child's nightmare. But it was familiar. His clothes were familiar. A uniform bearing the same resemblance as a straightjacket, ripped at the ends of his sleeves, and the black and white checkered scarf he knew so well. 

The detective definitely has seen him before... but... 

Suddenly, the events after the fifth trial flashed before his eyes. Ouma's Motive Video, his organisation of ten members, and standing to the supreme leader's right was exactly the one Shichi was looking at now.

One of Ouma's goons were here. 

Saihara had stumbled back, but the clown merely turned and left. Was that a sign for the detective to follow him?   

Glancing behind him, he made sure Harukawa and Yumeno hadn't looked for him. Certain he was completely alone, he knew he was going to have to climb over the fence and into the real world to chase after the clown. 

_"What did I say? You'll never forget me Saihara-chan."_

Ouma Kokichi could really be alive. This was his chance to find out. 

He pushed himself towards the fence. He followed, his worries cast aside, everything in his body and mind focused on the supreme leader now. 

 

  

He was a big member of the organisation so he wasn’t hard to spot. But the clown definitely was a fast walker. 

He hadn't been outside the borders of the Academy for a very long time, and he knew what he was doing was a bad idea. Naegi was right when he'd said the outside world had long been destroyed, the skies were a bloody red and the cities were in ruins. The tall buildings he knew of were obliterated and vehicles lay broken along the road. They'd slipped between alleyways and into empty market, he'd seen enough. It wasn't the world he'd recognised before the Killing Game. Cold fear ran in his blood as he turned every corner of the destroyed streets, devoid of people or of anything living, but this was the closest he'd come to finding the supreme leader. He felt drunk from the mere idea of him being alive. 

_Ouma Kokichi must be alive._

Beneath the crimson sky, Saihara continued to trail after the clown, though he remained quiet. In case he mistook him for somebody else, the detective didn't want to get himself into trouble especially without the assassin by his side. So far Ouma's goon hadn't noticed the detective trailing behind him.  

Until he tripped himself over a piece of rubble. 

 _Thud!_ Saihara's uniform was already covered in dirt after they'd been walking for half an hour. But it was then the clown whirled around and noticed the detective on the ground. 

"Ah, good afternoon." he said looking up, keeping his composure. "I'm... Saihara Shuichi. You must be part of DICE...?" The clown stiffened at his words. _Bingo_. 

A dark silhouette appeared behind the goon. Saihara almost mistook it for his shadow, but then it spoke. "I can't believe you brought a kid to our secret base." 

They were before a parliament building, or, what remained of it. 

"Do we knock him out and leave him here, or-" 

"Well, it's too late to leave him here because he knows where we live, huh?" 

Everything happened like a blur, but before the detective could even move his legs something hard crash against his head, and he heard his skull click. Before he could register the pain, he sank to the ground and let the familiar darkness envelope him whole.  

 

 

Saihara jolted awake from the screaming. 

“Dude what the hell is wrong with you? I can’t believe you let a STRANGER into our secret base!” 

The world around him was muffled, and detective gradually came to his senses and noticed his eyes were covered with black fabric. His mind was fuzzy and like he was dunked into water, unclear and thick, and he could feel a large swell at the back of his head. Last thing he remembered, he'd followed the clown into the destroyed city, then a sudden dizziness, slipping to the ground, darkness consumed him whole. He attempted to move him to his feet but he felt his body being shackled to the rough ground. Where was he exactly? 

“I didn’t know he was following me, bitch! I just wanted to steal something from that fancy-ass academy!” 

“Oh man, sir is gonna get sooooo mad at us.” 

"Wait, guys. He's moving." The cloth was harshly ripped from his eyes, and he squinted from the torchlight shining on his face. A child-like figure stood before him, long hazel hair and a petite figure, she was wearing the familiar uniform that belonged to Ouma, her face was also concealed by a clown mask. It was the girl from his Motive Video. It was her. "Ah look, he's really awake." 

Two of the goons, still in their signature mask, had their hands on one another but stopped whatever fight they had. One of them, Saihara recognised, was the red afro goon, while the other was a slender young man with a weirdly swept lime green hair. He didn't know where they took him, but the empty grey walls around them were damp and and the ground beneath him was soil, and he was lying uncomfortably on his side. 

The child-like girl with the long hair dropped the torch, approaching the detective. She was shorter than the two subordinates behind her, perhaps even inches shorter than Ouma. “You. Speak up, who are you and what do you want from DICE?”

Saihara shifted, his arms and legs were sore from being tied up so thoroughly. “So you’re really DICE? Your leader is Ouma Kokichi?” That meant he’s still alive.

He wasn't dead. 

His minions were here, and they knew where their leader was. The thought almost brought a smile to his face. 

_Ouma Kokichi must be alive._

Saihara had seen it coming, but he was still caught off guard. He felt a fist thrust into his stomach, feeling his intestines being smashed against his spine, and his breath instantly left him as he doubled over. He coughed, saliva leaking from his lips. The girl stared down at him with with no remorse. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

“Detec—“ he gasped, wincing from the pain in his stomach. “—tive. I’m… friends with—” 

“Man, you’ve hurt him real bad, Yui-san. Now he can’t speak properly.” the goon with the green hair whistled. 

“Silence, Hiroki-kun. I think he said he’s friends with Leader Ouma. Speak, whoever you are, how’d you know our leader?” 

“Dangan… ron—pa.” 

“What did you say?” She leaned towards him, cupping her ear, her long brown hair falling from her shoulders. The detective caught a whiff of her scent, which uncannily reminded him of the supreme leader. 

“I think he said _Danganronpa_ , Yui-chan.” The man with the red afro said. 

“What the fuck is _Danganronpa_?” 

“I don’t know for sure since we don’t have a television, but it’s like… It’s like a seasonal Killing Game that airs worldwide. It’s fucked up man, I heard they kidnap these poor kids because they have some kind of talent, and they erase their memories and force them into killing each other. There are no survivors.” 

“Woah,” Hiroki shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. “That’s fucking insane. Do people actually enjoy that shit?” 

The afro man nodded. “Brainwashed by despair, remember? Everyone’s crazy now.” 

“ _Danganronpa_ , huh.” Yui folded her tiny arms across her chest, observing the detective who was panting on the floor. Saihara had underestimated her for being small, she had given him the hardest and most painful blow to the gut. “Tell me, boy, were you in this _Danganronpa_?” Saihara merely nodded, unable to speak as his stomach felt like it was on fire. 

"Hm. That must explain why Leader was absent for so long." Saihara stopped coughing, he looked up at the Yui girl and swallowed hard. So they didn't know what had happened to him while he was gone?

"Hideo-kun," Yui said, and the afro man straightened. That must be his name. "Tell me more about this _Danganronpa_. Who's in charge and what it does." 

Hideo shrugged, rubbing his afro. "I told you, I dunno. I don't watch teenagers getting tortured. All I know is that they kidnap kids like us, but they want the ones with talent, for some reason. They're sadistic." 

Yui nodded, like she was beginning to understand everything. "Our leader was once hand picked by the government, the _Ultimate Initiative_ , before he created DICE." 

"Really? Does that mean Leader was really kidnapped and had to participate in this _Danganronpa_ thingy?" 

"I suppose so. It explains why he was all battered and bruised when we found him. He was almost dead." The detective cringed visibly from her words, and Yui had noticed. "And what is he to you, boy? You gonna try to finish him off?" 

"I didn't- try to kill-" 

A shadow fell upon her mask and he saw a dangerous fire kindling in her emerald eyes. "He could be a spy from this  _Danganronpa_." 

Hideo had moved beside her, cautious, as if one wrong move and she would set the entire place on fire. "Hey Yui-chan, really think you're being a little too harsh on him right now. I don't think he'd be the type to hurt our leader. I mean, look at that fucker," he gestured to Saihara's form, "He's obviously really weak. We should make sure he doesn't spill where we live, just send him back-" 

"No!" He didn't know he'd released a bloodcurdling scream, but he had. He was in so much pain, his entire body ached, but they weren't going to take this away from him. Ouma was still alive when he believed they were all dead. "I need- to see him." 

"See him? Why? How do we know you're not some kind of murderer or just a crazy fanboy?" Saihara shook his head, his stomach throbbing. Yui folded her arms across her chest. "Hm. We might as well give him to our leader to see how he's going to deal with him."  

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know he has been a little unstable.” 

“What do you mean... unstable?” Saihara choked. He felt like cold water was dumped over him. "What happened to him?" 

" _SILENCE_. How many times do I have to repeat myself?" 

"Look, Yui-san. Why don't we take him to Aiko-chan so she'd know what to do with him. She always know what to do with invaders." 

"That's... a good idea. We don't want her, you know, taking advantage of sir or anything after all that's happened." 

"Then I'm going." Hiroki said, adjusting his mask. "If they're in the middle of anything fucked up while I go in, I will flip." Hideo shook his head, clearly unamused. 

A hidden door well blended into the corner of the grey walls slid open automatically, allowing the giant clown an exit through. Wherever this place was, it wasn't old fashioned at all. In an instant, the clown disappeared, and the door clicked shut. 

"You know," Yui looked back at the detective, battered on the ground. "Sir's very against killing. It's part of the rules. But if you dare lay a finger on him, I will destroy you." Saihara nodded, though the words carried no meaning to him. Everything felt like a dream, DICE wasn't dead, his friend was alive, but somehow he still feared this dream would turn into his worst nightmare. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably edit this chapter a few times later. 
> 
> So this week has been a somewhat shitty week. It's one of those times when I just think, "Man, do people ever look at me and feel better about themselves?" I've been trying to distract myself from feeling down by writing this chap, though I feel bad since I didn't advance the story here, but I'm taking it back to what happened after the survivors escaped the academy and what lead Shuichi to assume Kokichi was still alive. I promise there'll be a continuation of the story in chap3, and no more flashbacks lol. Tell me what you think, because much is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Every single day since escaping the killing game, Saihara questioned his own sanity. Maybe it was because he felt like things have been going too well in his new life, too peaceful and too hopeful for any of it to be true, that some part of him was convinced he’s still living in Shirogane’s lies and something expectedly despairing was going to take place. This apprehension he constantly felt, he hated it, because living in the world of Danganronpa so long he could no longer tell what was true or what was fiction. 

He couldn’t tell if any of it was true when he’d found DICE. Now he couldn’t believe it was real when they’d taken him to see their leader. 

The goons had kept him blindfolded and wrists cuffed before they’d taken him to somewhere he couldn’t see. Fear filled his lungs when they forced him to kneel on the cold ground, but after a momentary silence they ripped his blindfold off. For a second, all he saw was white, before his eyes adjusted to the colours and shapes around him. It was a throne room with more DICE members around him, but one person in front of him made him freeze.

He saw him. Seated on the throne was the supreme leader himself. 

It was the same Ouma, blood and flesh, from the killing game. Same lilac eyes and dark hair and checkered bandana and ripped, white uniform. The ground felt like it was tilting beneath him in that moment, and Saihara was too overwhelmed to even speak. How was he even here? When did he get out of the killing game? 

He wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure this was all real and not another lie, but he was jerked back by the chains. 

“We've captured a boy our age, sir.” a minion beside him said, “He said he knows you, and that he’s a detective.” 

Ouma looked at him from his seat, and Saihara met his gaze. His appearance had barely changed, but it was the uncharacteristically tired look in his purple eyes that was different. He'd never seen the liar look so… lifeless. 

“Ouma-kun,” Saihara said, the name bitter on his tongue. He hadn't said it out loud in so long. “Remember me? We were participants in the fifty third killing game of Danganronpa." 

Ouma blinked in surprise when he spoke. Saihara waited for a bigger reaction, for a smug smile or snarky greeting, but the supreme leader only turned to his goons, and it was the first time in months the detective heard Ouma’s real voice. "Get him to the chambers. I've got some questions to ask him alone.”

It didn’t sound like him. His voice was too serious, devoid of its usual singsong, childish ring the Ouma from the killing game had.

_Was it really—?_

"But sir,” a goon said, “it might be too dangerous to do that, he might be a spy or even a kamikaze!” 

“He doesn't look like a threat to me."

“Still, it’s risky to be alone—“

“I’m not a spy or a kamikaze.” Saihara said, uneasy. “You… you know who I am, Ouma-kun.” 

The room fell silent and when Ouma narrowed his eyes at him, dread crept over him like an icy chill. “What did you say?” 

“It's me. It's... Saihara Shuichi.” he swallowed, “… what happened to you?" _Why don’t you recognise me?_

The supreme leader stared at him a little longer, examining him with slight confusion. For once Saihara noticed his face was too bare, too _honest_ to belong to the liar. The face he was looking at was almost that of stranger. The room felt too big, like there was a large distance between them. Ouma suddenly felt far away and Saihara couldn’t reach him. 

Ouma tore his gaze away then. “Just… just send him up to the chambers. I’ll deal with him myself later.”

This really was… Ouma, wasn’t it? “Wait, I—"

The goons ignored his pleas but nodded at their leader's command. They pushed the detective up to his feet, tugged on the chains and dragged him out of the throne room like a dog on a leash. The distance grew larger between them as he was being pulled away, and he was separated from his classmate once again. 

The minions ended up leading him up stairwells and down hallways. They escorted him through DICE like walking through a mirror maze one found at carnivals, everywhere was a dizzying black and white, the ground seemed to glow a neon blue. This place looked so much like Ouma’s ultimate lab back in the obliterated academy, so much so that he grimaced. None of this could be a lie, Saihara told himself. All of this seemed too real, all of it was the unexpected truth of what had happened to Ouma Kokichi after the killing game. 

Ouma somehow got out alive, but there was something wrong with him. 

When the goons took him into a dark room, Saihara knew he should be scared but he wasn’t. All he felt was an intense wave of hopelessness from losing his classmate all over again. He didn’t know how things had turned out like this. 

 _"Sooooo, Saihara-chan,“_ the Ouma in his head sniggered. _“What are you gonna do now?”_

He didn’t know what he was going to do. 

 

* * *

 

Ouma had been trapped in the academy for a few days, but he kept up the fake smiles. 

The killing game had officially commenced after the pianist's dumb attempt to kill the mastermind. The first trial had left him with a hollow pit in his stomach, but it was after seeing the brutal execution he'd learn a few things. A fact, that Monokuma enjoyed making executions as despairing as possible because he was a sadistic freak, and also controlling the robot was the mastermind, and whoever they were, was a lot smarter than he thought. But the most surprising thing he’d come to discover recently, was that Saihara Shuichi was… not a boring person. 

From the moment the detective introduced himself the first day, Ouma could tell he was insecure and didn’t take charge of things. He followed the pianist around a lot, kind of like a dog following its master, and he didn’t have any interest in knowing him. It was only at the end of the first trial when he got rid of that emo hat did things change. For the first time, Saihara was no longer living in someone else’s shadow. He was speaking up about things, coming out of his shell and was growing comfortable talking to the others. 

Saihara even approached him in the library one afternoon. 

“I want to know you a little better.” he’d said to him. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

“Hmmmm. You’re actually a pretty reckless guy, y’know!” Ouma chirped, “To wanna get to know me. I am the ultimate supreme leader of the _world’s deadliest group_ , after all!”

“Uh, yeah…” Saihara looked wary around him, but he didn’t seem scared like the others. “So you say your title is the Ultimate Supreme Leader… what's this group you run?”

“Oh, just this evil organisation with over ten-thousand members from around across the globe! It’s where I control politicians with blackmail, I can even manipulate the stock market _on a whim_. Cool huh?“

The detective frowned. “I think I remember you’ve said that to me before. But it can't involve the yakuza. I just can't think of any organisation that fits that description."

“Are you doubting me, Saihara-chan? I’m really not lying when I say I'm in charge of a secret organisation.“

”So it’s a secret? Like a secret society of some sort?”

“That’s riiiiight! Nishishi!”

“I’m not sure if I can believe you, Ouma-kun.”

“Oh yeah? And why not?”

“I guess everything sounds so unrealistic.” he answered, eyes meeting his for a little too long. “Like you’re lying.”

Ouma grinned and raised an eyebrow, but the detective was careful not to smile back. Out of all the people the detective came to him, and since he hadn’t scared him away yet, he decided to keep the conversation going. 

There was something about the way the detective spoke to him, he didn't demand to know everything about him, and he didn't try to get him to open up like Akamatsu had tried to do. Ouma could see the detective, whatever his reasons, wanted to figure him out. It was amusing to watch him try.

"With your organisation so big in this world, does it even exist at all?” he brought a hand to his chin, ”Or are you making this up?”

“Don’t hurt my fweelings, it so _does_ exist!”

“I still find that hard to believe, Ouma-kun."

"That's your problem for not seeing the truth! But who knows? One day you might meet my members!” he said, aware it was approaching midnight. “I make one phone call back home and the world changes! So let me know if you want anything, Saihara-chan! I’ll show you next time the power I have over this planet.”

“I— ah.” he looked like he wanted to say more, but shook his head. “Yeah. Okay. We should talk some more next time.” 

What made this guy a bit different from the rest? The fact that he wanted to know him better? Ouma didn’t know, but all he did know was the detective seemed willing to understand him. And maybe if he was going to play pretend forever here, he wanted to be understood a little. 

He decided, next time there’ll be no talking. They’ll play a game instead. 

 

 

After the second trial, with Hoshi Ryoma's murder and Tojo Kirumi's execution, Ouma Kokichi found that games took his mind off distressing things. So he played chess one afternoon.

He tried to indulge in the feeling of emerging victorious in every game he’s played. It wasn’t a lie that he was good at strategic games, it’s a known fact even the ultimate detective was curious about. Ouma knew he was especially skilled at chess though, which was why he was almost caught off guard when he had his queen knocked down before his eyes.

“Sorry. this is my first time taking your queen.”

Saihara was getting better at chess. He’d always been all right at it to start with, but Ouma never needed to put up a struggle against him. He had noticed it was after the second trial, the detective had become less passive and was making bolder and riskier moves with his pieces. What changed him? Was it the idiot astronaut who gave him a boost of confidence? Was it because the detective had come to realise his responsibility to fulfill Akamatsu’s dying wish? 

His reaction was funny. Saihara went red, and he looked flustered he’d made a successful move for once. The detective never failed to entertain him. “Oh wow, would d’ya look at that! You stole my queen, Saihara-chan is really getting good at chess!”

The detective picked at his piece, peering at him. “… And you’re going to say that’s just a lie?”

“Yup.” he beamed, “You just got _lucky,_ obviously!” Ouma fingered his pawn now, waiting for his opponent to make his move. He would take his victory back easily.

“You do look a little distracted today, Ouma-kun,” Saihara noted, as he advanced his knight, threatening his bishop. “What are you thinking of?”

 _About how much you’ve changed,_ he’d wanted to say, but instead, “Aw, is my beloved worried about me?” he pushed his pawn diagonally, watching with satisfaction as the knight fell over. “I’m planning your defeat of course! What else would I be thinking of?” 

He swallowed. “Right.”

The supreme leader’s face split into a grin, and Saihara glanced at him tensely.

The room became quiet when the game continued on, as time ticked Ouma had Saihara’s black pieces decimated one by one. Eventually, his pawn found its way to the opposite side of the board, and his queen returned to his fingers. The supreme leader had won the game. 

“Nishishi! Victory is mine, once again!”

Saihara furrowed his brows, disappointed and staring at the fallen pieces before him. “It’s always been a mystery to me how you're this skilled.”

A mystery. He’d said the same thing to him the first time they played way before the second trial even started. He was a detective, and if there’s one thing about him that hadn’t changed it was that Ouma was a mystery he still wanted to solve. The thought of it widened the smile on his face. “You better not forget I have the upper hand in every game you play with me, Saihara-chan.”

The detective nodded, embarrassed. 

Ouma didn’t know if Saihara knew he was becoming more and more interesting. And to be honest, he wouldn't mind playing these games with the detective until he could win him for once. That was something he’d like to see. 

_So don’t forget me just yet!_

 

 

Dying. He was dying. After the fourth trial things had taken a turn for the worse. Ouma had been shot by two poisoned arrows, and the entire time, the detective was not on his mind. 

That was a lie. He just convinced himself he didn’t need the memory of Saihara calling him pathetic as he was dying from the poison. Instead, he tried to focus on the astronaut’s angry face before him in the hangar. 

“Don’t lie to me, don’t joke around!“ Momota yelled, once he seemed healthy again from the antidote Ouma had given him. “Tell me the fucking truth. If you’re the mastermind, why the hell did you save me?”

He forced himself to ignore the pain biting at his wounds. ”I’m… not the mastermind! That— that was a lie! I only pretended to fool you idiots!”

The astronaut's eyes widened, but then he scowled. He didn't believe him, and Ouma couldn't blame him. "You don't believe me! But that's fine because look-" his fingers shook as he drew Iruma's remote control from his pockets. "I've prepared a ton of shit. Just to make myself look like the mastermind." 

“Hey… isn’t that—”

“The remote to control the exisals! Setting up Gonta, killing Iruma! It’s all apart of my evil plan. Nishishishi!”

“But if you’re not the mastermind, why would you do any of this? Why did you bring me here?”

"It's not that difficult to get, Momota-chan." he said, annoyed. "I just need to throw off... the stupid mastermind and the people watching us! I need you alive for the first part of my plan to kill me."

As expected of the stubborn astronaut, he snapped, fists clenched. “W— what? You piece of shit! You want me to kill you, _and_ have my friends go through another trial? "

“Duh! I'm being nothing but serious here, you big dummy."

"You may be a little shit but there’s no way I can do something like that!”

"Momota-chan," his vision was growing blurry, limbs becoming numb. “I’ve saved your life, and we don't have time..! This will be the final trial, and you have to kill me if you want these goddamn trials to end for good.“

"And then what?" he threw his hands into the air. "My friends will die like this! This is exactly what Monokuma wanted and I can't let that happen to them.”

"I may be a liar, but you can sure trust me this time, we’ll fuck up this damned killing game. You need to do this for me." he added, "Do this if you want _them_ be safe… if it's all about the power of friendship you care soooooo damn much about."

He wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it sounded coming from his own mouth. _Friendship_. He was doing this as a way to flip the bird at the mastermind, not because he cared about his classmates or Saihara. It was easier to convince the hothead like this because he actually had people to care about. Ouma in contrast, did not have anyone. 

Momota growled then. “This is to save them? I still can’t trust you after everything you’ve done to us.”

“Heh, nobody ever trusts me! But I’ve told you what you wanted to hear, so help me— to help them.” Ouma smiled, and he didn’t know what Momota saw in his face that made him look almost sympathetic. He hated that look. 

“You sound like you’re bullshitting me right now.” he sighed, rubbing the the nape of his neck. “But I’ll do anything for those guys, and now... It looks like we don’t have a lot of options left. If you promise to be honest with me, then I’ll hear you out if this is to save them.” 

He shrugged, he didn't have long to live so he supposed a bit of honesty wouldn't hurt. Ouma did not believe in a god, and he sure didn't believe in Yonaga's god, but in the moment he found himself thanking a higher being for finally letting this idiot work with him.

Time was running out, he no longer cared if he seemed desperate when he was dying fast. Monokuma’s cameras will be back on soon. “I’ll tell you how things are gonna work, so you'd better make sure this information gets through your thick skull.”

The astronaut didn’t retort this time, but nodded with some uncertainty. But that was enough, he won’t let him change his mind. Because while Ouma was going to sacrifice himself and his everything for the scheme to run, how smoothly it will go was all up to Momota now. The supreme leader brushed the pain and growing numbness aside, spilling the details of his plan, waiting for the triumph of winning to finally hit him. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Momota-chan, and you better stick to the plan until the very end…”

He should be happy. His last _fuck you_ to the mastermind and anyone watching. His scheme would be brought to life with the help of Momota like he wanted. So why did it feel like he’d lost all over again?

 

 

Eventually, Ouma found himself lying on metal. 

From beneath the press, he lolled his head to the side to see the astronaut’s distraught face. Momota hadn’t wanted to kill him, but now he needed to. For a second, Ouma felt a little guilty for forcing the idiot into doing this. 

For a second, he felt guilty for a lot of things. 

He glanced up at the press closing in on him. He tried to destroy the thought, but Saihara was right when he said he was all alone. He regretted it. He was hypocritical to call Akamatsu’s wish stupid when maybe all this time he’d hoped for it too. Beyond it all, his desperation to live and to save DICE, his vengeful desire to destroy Monokuma’s trials, maybe he’d also wanted to escape the killing game with his classmates. And he’d wanted— he’d wanted to see those amber eyes one last time. 

He wanted to see—

He took a final breath, as the cold metal touched his skin. 

 

 

_Ouma had challenged the detective to many games he’d lost count. He remembered the last game they’d played together before all this shit went down._

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— shk!_

_“O-Ouma-kun! Your finger!”_

_Ouma blinked, suddenly registering the sharp pain in his finger. He let the knife clatter to the table and stared at the blood oozing down his hand, the red colour burned in his mind along with what he’d just done to himself._

_“You don’t have to move!” Saihara insisted. “Just sit here and stay still, I’ll go look for the first aid kit…”_

_He watched as the detective scurried off into the distance, taking his mind off his finger that stung. It didn’t take long before he returned with a first aid kit in his arms, and he knelt before Ouma on the bench, carefully taking his hand, lightly soaking the blood with a cotton ball then wrapping the injury with a gauze. The entire time Saihara bit his lip, brows furrowed in concentration, handling the injury gently. He always amazed Ouma with how meticulously he did everything._

_When Saihara was finally done, he looked up. “Okay. I think that’s good enough. What do you think?”_

_Ouma stared at him, then down at his wrapped fingers, each neatly bound in gauze and tape. His mind whirled at the fact that the detective showed that he cared about him for once. The thought of it made him chortle, and Saihara gave him an odd look. “Not bad. See, what did I say?” Then he said, “The damage’s been done. I’m officially on your mind forever.”_

_Saihara frowned, then stood from the ground, picking up the kit. He stretched out a free hand towards him, “Wanna go back now?”_

_Ouma didn’t take it. If there was trust, there’ll always be pain in the end. Whether it was because he turned out to be the mastermind, or he died. He’d spent so long in the killing game to know there was pain that will hurt more than his cut. Saihara dropped his hand and his face suddenly looked pitiful, like he understood what Ouma was thinking. “Hey,” he said, pretending he wasn’t bothered by the rejection, ”you said I win the game by default, right?”_

_“Sure, sure. If you’re that eager!”_

_Saihara smiled. Even if Ouma couldn’t fully let his guard down with him, at least he’ll smile back at him._  

 

 

He woke from the dead, nauseous and groggy. 

He knew he’d died. He'd been killed by the ultimate astronaut, just as he'd planned for to happen. He learned the feeling of being crushed alive then. The feeling of a roof pressing down, the tight blackness that seeped into his skin threatening to destroy him completely. The weight of the metal on his bones and squashing them into mush. The slow agony, then the salvation of nothing.

When he finally opened his lilac eyes, he found himself staring at the blank ceiling above him instead of the metal roof of the press. For a moment he hadn’t registered what was happening and where he was. Then he remembered — if he was alive then he was still in the walls of the killing game — and like a hook, it wrenched him back to reality. Ouma's head spun, but he pushed himself up in the bed, the thin sheets wrinkling beneath him. That was when when he smelled the metallic stench of blood on himself, and noticed a machine beeping rhythmically beside his bed, tubes in his nose and needles protruding his skin.

Where was Momota? Did he follow through with the plan? Where was he—?

“Take… them out.” he croaked to the empty room. He blanched when he saw a silver steel had been entered into his veins. Ouma swallowed, a scream rising in his throat. “Get. Them. Out. Of. Me.” he said, louder this time.

“Oh,” a voice whisper. “You’re awake.”

"Take… them out of me...”

“That’s not a good idea.” There was a low chuckle. “You really could’ve died from that machine press, you know. You caught me off guard.” Everything was blurry, nothing made any sense. A hand pushed against his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of shiny spectacles. “Please don’t try move, Ouma-kun. You could really mess this up.”

“Mess—?”

“You’re not needed anymore. Didn't you say so yourself?” said the voice, “Go back to sleep and forget you ever came to Danganronpa and the killing game. That’s what you wanted after all. For all of this to end.”

Forget Danganronpa. Forget this shitty killing game. 

He fell back into the sheets as everything went silent, and grudgingly, he returned to the warmth of death.

 

* * *

 

In the present, Ouma’s headaches got better after the stranger was taken out of the throne room. The memories vanished from his mind, the voices had disappeared, and when they did he sighed with relief. 

Who the hell was he?

There was something he found weird about the boy. It could be the way he spoke that made Ouma pause and take him in. There was the way his amber eyes were filled with bewildered hurt that made him think they’d met before. Whatever it was, something about him was hauntingly familiar. “I don’t know who he is,” Ouma told his goons when they’d asked for an explanation. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.” 

“Are you sure sir? But how does he know your name— how does he know about DICE?” 

Ouma repeated himself. Said he had no idea, that this was his first time meeting someone like him. He didn't mention the foreign memories that bombarded his head. He did't mention his heart beating like crazy for no reason just seeing him. 

“T-then what are we gonna do now? He knows about DICE!”

“What if he’s working for the government officials?!”

“Those fuckers are coming after us! They’re coming after us!” 

“You have to worry so much guys.” their leader said to them, “I'm sure he’s not anyone _dangerous_. He’s just…” Just what? He thought about the boy’s wariness when he saw him. He thought about why that face struck him with a nostalgia he didn’t recognise. A normal stranger wouldn’t make him feel this way. He shook his head. “... I’ll go figure out what he’s doing here. I won’t take long.” 

"Do you need us to come with you?"

"No," he said, getting up from his throne. "This is just between the two of us."

He’d spent the last five minutes standing idly before the chamber door. The boy had been taken to this place. The chamber was like a prison but without bars, rarely used, but was the most secure room in their lair. Ouma exhaled deeply, pressing his palm against the metal entrance. There was no point in being nervous.  _Turn off your feelings like a switch,_   he told himself. _Calm the fuck down._ He's safe from whatever ruined him up five months ago. The stranger was no one to be afraid of.  

Before he could let himself change his mind, he pushed the metal doors open. The light spilled into the dimly lit room, revealing a small, squarish room. There wasn't any furniture in it. Unlike the rest of DICE, it was just a plain space lit by a single light bulb hung from the ceiling, the floors were polished clean. It looked like any other spare room in the world, and at the centre of it all was the detective. He could already feel the memories rise in his head. 

The detective was strapped to a chair, his navy-black head lowered to the ground and he wasn’t moving. Ouma stepped into the room and went closer to him, he was relieved to find him breathing, but then he saw the bruises on his face which he hadn’t noticed before. Looking at him like this, he didn’t know why, he didn't feel confused or surprised anymore— all he did know now was that he felt inexplicably frustrated he couldn’t remember this person. He felt like he was forgetting someone important. 

 The boy finally lifted his head, and those exhausted amber eyes met his. “... Ouma-kun?” 

Ouma didn't answer him, because he thought he'd heard that voice before. 

 _“I want to know you a little better. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”_  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit (apr 2019): i’ve finally fixed and edited this chapter. i didn’t like the first version of it and glad i was able to fix it. 
> 
> some things i’ve changed:  
> \- spelling of “organisation”. last time it’s underlined red when i spell it with an “s” on ao3, and i usually spell it with a “z” anyway. but the more i look at it the more bothered i got, so i decided to change it.  
> \- changed shuichi’s eyes from grey to amber since i realise now, it just sounds better.


End file.
